


Discussion over Tea

by SpaceKeet



Category: Gloryhammer (Band)
Genre: Gen, OC: Xiongwei Huoyan the Golden Serpent of Storms, Original Character(s), always more noodle dragon, more noodle dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23259136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceKeet/pseuds/SpaceKeet
Summary: After Angus McFife XIII told Ralathor about the dragon he met that helped him find his hammer, the hermit thought to pay this dragon a visit himself.
Kudos: 3





	Discussion over Tea

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters of the Gloryhammer band, this is about the characters and not the real people.
> 
> This story is only loosely related to my other story, The Magic Dragon of Storms. It has some similar elements and plot but is not the direct seqeal.

Ralathor was bored. Bored enough to be staring at the wall contemplating the answer to life, the universe and everything. So far he got forty-two and he figured that if he stared for longer, he’d get the question.

Suddenly something exploded in one of the rooms of his cave which sent him across the hall to go check on it. When he entered his alchemy room, he was a bit surprised to find the walls, table and a small part of the floor charred, bits of glass scattered about the room from many jars that were caught in the blast radius from whatever exploded. He stepped over the larger bits of glass, his cloak brushing over the remains with an audible noise of glass moving over stone. He paid it no mind as he walked to the charred table, looking for the offender of the explosion.

He looked around on the table and found the source of the explosion. It was the golden scale of a thunder dragon. A thunder dragon that Angus had befriended when he lost his hammer a week ago and brought back a ‘small’ scale that fell off the dragon for Ralathor. The hermit picked up the scale - about the size of his hand - and ended up giving himself a bit of a shock as the scale turned out to still have a strong charge.

After the shock went down his spine with a shudder, the hermit reflexively shivered after the electricity passed. “Ah… That wasn’t pleasant,” he mused nonchalantly as he inspected the magical golden scale. How intriguing, unlike the lost scales of the native dragons here, this species’s scales keep their magical properties. He looked at the mess again, no doubt the scale had a build-up of energy from being put in the jar so discharged it.

Ralathor found a shed sky dragon scale amidst the destruction and compared it against the golden one, the differences were apparent, apparent enough that even a peasant would tell the difference between if they were laid out in front of them. The sky dragon scale was like an arrowhead, and there was an outgrowth on the scale that would stick into the skin, much like the feather of a bird. On the underside of the scale was a thin fluff that when the dragon ‘raised’ its scales, it’d cause the fluff to fill in the gaps and make the dragon warmer. The colouration of the scale was also a dull blue with a small light spot on the tip. The golden scale, on the other hand, was not only an iridescent gold that caught the light from the torches on his walls and made a bright point on the opposite wall, but it was also exactly like a fish’s scale: crescent-shaped almost and sits a bit on the form of the skin rather than in it. The entire scale also felt strangely velvety to the touch and it was definitely still seeped in magic from the dragon, unlike the sky dragon scale which lost its more obvious magical potency a long time ago.

The hermit pursed his lips under his hood with a clear idea to test something. He touched the golden scale to the sky dragon scale to see if it might ‘charge’ the dead scale.

Ralathor had to quickly dip his head down far enough so that he didn’t lose an eye from the sky dragon scale exploding upon being touched with the other scale. “This is new,” he mused to himself lowly as he looked in his left hand where the other scale  _ was _ before it got vaporized. “So that didn’t have the results that I was expecting, but I got results,” he further said to himself, looking at the scale.

He set the scale down in a rubber-lined container he found after a small moment of searching, then waved a hand to clean up the mess, the minor time spell reverted the mess in the room, putting the jars and their contents back on the table and the charr from the wall and ceiling was removed. With the spell, everything was as it was before, except that the golden scale was no longer in the repaired jar were it once was. 

The hermit made a noise in the back of his throat as he walked out of the room. “And Proletius says magic isn’t useful.” He walked down the corridor silently and habitually turned left into another room.

This room - or well, another part of the caves he lives in that he converted into a room - had a bunch of shelves that were acquired from the Citadel of Dundee (they were getting thrown out anyway, he simply gave them a new home), which had a bunch of books in them and around them in stacks. 

“Hm, I really need to organise this room,” Ralathor muttered to himself as he stepped over a book. He then looked at the tomes that were stacked orderly on one of the bookshelves. “Now...where did I put that book?” The hermit reached up and grabbed a book titled  _ Scottish Dragon Breeds and Species by Ernest Drake _ , took one glance at the title and put it back. He reached up a shelf higher and grabbed the next book and reading it. “ _Dragons & Drakes of Europe: A Dragonhunter’s guide by Beowolf_ , nope, that’s not it either.” He puts that one back too.

Ralathor then starts to look at the stacks of books on the floor, seeing if he had it and muttering to himself again, “I know have it, so where did I put the blasted thing? I really need to organise this room sometime.” He reads the spines of each book he came across, searching for the book he came here for. After not finding what he was looking for in that stack he looks through the next one, then the next one, then the next one.

He was on the last stack when he finally found what he was looking for and pulled it out from the stack, causing the book tower to fall. “Ha, knew I had it,  _ Dragons of the East _ by an unknown author. Now, time to find out what species this mystery dragon is, and judging from Angus’s description, they are clearly a serpent, just need to find out what kind,” he continued to mutter to himself, not thinking fully on the words he was saying before he said them. Ralathor opened the book and began to leaf through the book, muttering what Angus told him as he looked for the right dragon. “Iridescent golden scales, spines, a single set of whiskers, curved deer-like horns, slender face, thick mane, three toes on each foot, the hands had a thumb. I must say I'm impressed with how preceptive the Prince is getting in taking in the looks of potential enemies, very impressed,” he continued to speak to himself in a low voice.

The hermit flicked through the pages, skimming over the description of the dragons as he did so until he landed on a promising page. “Cloudwalker...Hmm, let’s see, ‘this species of wyrm has fish-like scales, thick mane, fur on the tail which can often grow on other parts of the body, another breed of this species can grow fur all over their body that comes off the fish-like scales.’ Fascinating… And it says here that Cloudwalkers have three toes on all four feet like Ryus but the third toe on the front legs is a thumb. Seems the Prince’s new friend is a Cloudwalker,” he said, slightly louder to himself as he read the passages. 

He scanned the page further and stopped at a passage, reading it aloud to himself, “‘Clouwalkers love knowledge like most other eastern wyrms, but they particularly enjoy stories: fact or fiction, and they often don’t care if the story has a lesson or not, they just enjoy listening to stories and sharing their own.’ How fascinating, hmmm, I should have some books I’m willing to part with, ones that are still in print that is. Hm? Cloudwalkers also have a bit more obvious difference in the sexes: males have beards and straighter horns, females don’t have beards and curved horns. Well...if you know what those differences are.” He shut the book and put it on the shelf next to the other dragon books.

Ralathor then looked around the room. “Well, suppose I should clean up while looking for books I can part with before I go pay this dragon a visit myself,” he said to himself again and got to work organizing his shelves. (Which may or may not have involved doing magic to make it faster.) While he cleaned up, he found five books that he could easily source copies of (plus one he wrote himself.) After he packed them up into a bag, he teleported himself to the bottom of the same peak Angus found the golden serpent of storms.

When he appeared on the rocky path (or rather, lack there-of) he looked around until he saw a way up and began to make his way upwards. Ralathor walked and climbed up the rocks, using a few spells to stay climbing and not fall to his death. 

Angus said that he had climbed until his vision of the horizon was blocked by clouds that had suddenly rolled in. Ralathor paused and looked around, no clouds yet so he’s not far enough for the dragon to consider showing themself. He grunts and continues climbing over rocks and trying not to slip on loose pebbles.

After several minutes with no change in the cloud cover, he had gotten to the top of the peek. There was also no dragon either. Ralathor looked around but still found no trace of them. He huffed in annoyance, “No dragon, that doesn’t surprise me, cloudwalkers fly by magic rather than wings, they’re probably long gone by now.” He mused to himself. The hermit looked around one last time - even looking up this time - and after confirming that there is no giant golden serpent he faced the way he came and began to climb back down.

“You know, it’s very amusing watching a spell-caster climb up a mountain, nearly fall off thrice on the way up, get to their destination and upon realising that the creature they were looking for wasn’t there, promptly give up and go home,” an amused voice said above him suddenly, causing him to slip and fall while he was on a precarious ledge.

Once he got secured back on the ledge he was standing on, he looked at the long golden face of the dragon in annoyance. “Could have chosen a better time to reveal yourself? Like, when I was on a more secure area?” he asked calmly while he looked over their - her - face which lacked a beard and had curved horns. 

She grinned at him. “You were fine. I had watched you use some spells to prevent you from falling earlier,” she said, angling her head more forward a bit to look at him easier, centring him in between her eyes, in front of her long nose.

“Well, yes, I was. Doesn’t make it any less irritating,” he said. “Didn’t know that we had a Cloudwalker here,” he commented as he ducked under her massive head to climb back up to the peak so that he isn’t hanging on for dear life on a cat-walk.

“It only took ten centuries for you to realise that I was here and that was because Angus the thirteenth was missing his hammer and I decided to help,” she replied as she followed Ralathor and settled on the small ledge above where he sat and set up a tea tray that he teleported to the ledge from his home.

Ralathor looked at her from underneath his hood. “You’ve been here for ten centuries? Why did you come here in the first place? It’s a bit far from your home,” he commented while he poured the tea for both him and the dragon.

“My home always felt less my home, so I left it. After of course I avenged my dead mate and took my eggs back from the bastards that took them, and flew until I came across this island and settled here. After the sealing of Zargothraz mind you,” she answered, looking at the tea being poured. She set a forepaw down gently in front of the table and focused, the next thing was the dragon turning into an adult female woman of eastern origin who sat down opposite to Ralathor.

Ralathor blinked as he watched her transform into the rather perfect form of a human. “I see. And your whelps? Where are they?” he asked while he offered her the cup of tea he poured.

She took it from him. “Where I came from originally. Once a year they come to visit me,” she answered with a sip from her cup.

Ralathor sipped his tea then prepared to ask another question, “How -”

“I will ask you a question myself before you ask another of me,” she interrupted. “Who are you to come up here in search of me and ask these questions?” she asked while she held Ralathor in a steady glare.

“Ralathor, hermit of Cowdenbeath, ally and friend to Angus McFife the thirteenth. He was the one to tell Proletius and me who helped him find the hammer of Glory,” Ralathor answered.

She took a sip from her cup. “And what made you come up to me?”

“I had not realised that we had a dragon that is from a generally much friendlier species on our land until the prince ran into you,” he answered.

The dragon disguised as a human takes a pause to pour herself more tea. “So besides coming up to this peak, interrupting my sunbathing and asking me questions without even introducing yourself first, what are you doing here?” she asked, then, with an amused look commented, “I dare say that the prince had better manners.”

Ralathor ignored the comment as he took out the books he had packed. “I had read that you guys like knowledge - and even simple stories - so I scoured these books out from my personal library for you as sort of a welcome to Fife,” he said. The hermit then smiled under his hood. “Though I appear to be ten centuries late.”

She gave a laugh at the joke as she picked up one of the books and read the title, “‘ _ Tales From the Kingdom of Fife _ ’?” She looked up at him.

The hermit nods and opened his mouth, speaking softly, “What happened during Angus McFife the first’s reign ten centuries ago, the other books are different stories.”

The dragon looked through the offered books and set them down next to her. “Thank you. I had heard bits and pieces of the Zargothrax story, but having the full story at hand is great,” she commented.

Ralathor nodded and sipped his tea, falling into silence. The silence only passed for a minute before the hermit spoke up. “So who are you?” he asked, looking at the dragon in human form.

She leans back slightly, tilting her head up at the sky. “Hmm, I am Xiongwei Huoyan… But if that’s too hard for you to say, I currently go by as ‘Astrid’,” she said and her form shifted to that of a local and she looks at Ralathor.

Now that caught the hermit by surprise and he widened his eyes in shock, almost dropping his tea. “So that’s how you stayed hidden for ten centuries!” he exclaimed, only slightly louder than how he usually talked. “Your name is not hard for me to say, different, but not hard, Xiongwei Huoyan,” he added.

“Please, call me Xiongwei to at least make it easier on yourself if you wish to call me by name,” Xiongwei said, still remaining in the form as one of the locals of Fife.

“Impressive forms by the way, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a human,” Ralathor commented.

Xiongwei gave Ralthor what could be described as a ‘shit-eating grin’. “I’ve practised my polymorphing quite avidly over the years. I’m adept at transforming into many forms,” she answered, taking a sip of her tea.

The hermit gave a small nod. “It paid off,” he commented, finishing off his tea he got up. “Well, I should go, let the other two know you’re not a threat. I hold no responsibility if Hootsman and Ser Proletius come up to say hi,” he said calmly and quietly.

“Farewell, Ralathor, hermit of Cowdenbeath and tell Angus that I said hello,” she said, setting her own empty cup down. She grabbed the books and transformed back into her dragon form, settling back down on the rocks.

Ralathor teleported the tea set away and faced the way down, he paused, looking up at the large golden dragon, already reading one of the books. He looks back at the path down - and teleports to the bottom of the bottom. When his bearings took in the sudden change of scenery, he swore he heard laughing on the wind that floated down from the peaks. He looked up and glared, he then focused again and teleported away again.

**Author's Note:**

> In my small writing challenge of writing the Gloryhammer characters, I started this one, got distracted, then didn't finish it until a pandemic forced people into their houses. Well, at least I finished this in time and there will be more, with Xiongwei and Alina both. (Alina was not in this story)


End file.
